The Comedy of Errors: John Lee Hooker - No Shoes (29 May 1992)

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Imagine an alternate universe Radio 1 where, one day, John Peel is called in to see Derek Chinnery or Johnny Beerling and is told, “Your show is covering too many bases.  We want you to specialise in one genre and base your programme around that.  Which one do you want to cover?”  For Peel, this would probably have been the DJ equivalent of Sophie’s Choice, but if push came to shove, I think he might have plumped for doing a blues music show.  Now, this could have subjected Peel to a lot of records he wouldn’t have enjoyed given that modern late 20th Century blues rock featured plenty of examples of bald men with ponytails playing “serious gee-tar” and other such grisliness.  But I’m sure he would have considered it worth it to have uncovered more White Stripes.  Even if he had been panning for gold in a sea of shit, I think that he would have taken the opportunity to fill the gaps with old blues records.  Even though this would have meant that he was spending more time looking back than forward - something he never wanted to do as a matter of course - I know of no musical form which caused him to revere his favourite artists more than any of those with a smoky voice, an electric guitar and a case of the blues.

This was certainly true on this evening when Peel played John Lee Hooker’s 1960 single, No Shoes, which he was enjoying as part of a 6-CD Hooker retrospective from Charly R&B called The Vee-Jay Years 1955-1964, which Peel regarded as his best period:

“You can fill  stadiums with all the equipment you can get and all of the dancing folk and backing singers and whatever you like, and you’re still not going to get anything that sounds as good as this.” (Peel before playing No Shoes on 29/5/92).

High praise indeed, though it has to be said there are no real surprises in No Shoes.  It’s fairly typical ‘poverty-row’ blues given an added bit of emotional punch by Hooker’s protagonist referencing the effect that “hard times” have on his children as well as himself.  The tune fades out quickly too after 2:24, though one can imagine that in a live context it could have stretched on endlessly.  However, what clinches its place on my mixtape is the sense of atmosphere that Hooker and chums fit in to the recording.  It’s pure late night, booze on your eyelids, blues - lulling you to sleep with the contrast between Hooker’s licks and the electric strum, while snapping you awake to make you consider the poverty that these poor souls have to endure.
“He’s a solid sender.” (Peel after playing No Shoes on 29/5/92)

Video courtesy of EaSy RideR oO7